


Random Chance

by JollyCat



Series: Chances [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyCat/pseuds/JollyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's pure, random chance that makes Nick and Sean keep meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Shadowolfhunter for another inspirational comment!

_Million to one chances...crop up nine times out of ten._

― Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites

 

It is, of course, pure random chance that Nick is three cars behind Renard when the traffic stops. Well, chance that they are on the same stretch of road anyway. He'd spotted the black SUV about a mile back, gradually got closer, kept an eye on it. It's not that he's _interested_ in what Renard's doing out here on a sunny Sunday afternoon, oh no, but after recent events it can't hurt to notice if he's with anyone, watch where he's going. When the brake lights start coming on ahead the cop in him is instantly alert but whatever has happened is far enough away he can't see anything. The traffic slows, halts and they wait.

He can just see Renard, sitting at the wheel, doesn't look like there is a passenger. There are a few car horns but the traffic is stationary as far ahead as Nick can see - it's clear to most that leaning on the horn isn't going to help much. Nick wonders whether to call in, find out what's happening, see if he can do anything. He can hear sirens away in the distance.

It's a beautiful day, the first day it hasn't rained heavy Portland rain in weeks. There's blue sky and white clouds and it all seems a world away from monsters in the dark and Black Claw. Nick thinks if he put the window down he'd hear birds. The sun is hot through the windshield and it seems hard to believe anything dark and evil could be hidden in all that brightness. People are starting to get out of their vehicles, tempted by the warmth and the light and the fact they clearly aren't going anywhere, stretching, talking, gesturing at the road ahead. Nick opens the door and gets out, exactly at the same moment as Renard does. The tall figure looks back and their eyes meet like they both knew where the other was. Nick walks towards him.  
"Nick."  
Nick doesn't know what to call Renard anymore. 'Renard' seems too distant out loud, 'Sean', well, he's never called him Sean. He's always been 'Captain' and that title supposedly belongs to someone else now. Nick just nods a wary greeting and asks,  
"You know what's happening?  
"A backhoe has come off a transporter - road's blocked and they're going to need special equipment to move it."  
"So we're here a while?"  
"It seems so."  
A man behind Nick overhears, passes this on and Nick can hear the news of the delay radiating out through the crowd.

There is an oddly festive atmosphere - people are settling in groups on the grass at the side of the road, breaking out drinks, snacks. Gradually even those who remained fuming in their cars, stressing about missed appointments or delayed arrivals, emerge into the sunshine. Nick and Renard stand by his SUV, one step too far apart, making slightly awkward small talk. Renard is in his usual suit and tie and amongst the casually dressed Sunday crowd he looks too formal, too noticeable. Perhaps he realises this - or perhaps he's just hot - because he takes off his jacket, pulls off his tie and puts both on the back seat. Maybe that's what inspires Nick to ask,  
"You wanna sit?"  
Renard looks across at the grass bank, hesitates. It was obviously a stupid idea, Nick thinks, opens his mouth to take back the thought, maybe just go back to his own vehicle. Surprisingly though Renard's lips quirk and he says,  
"It looks tempting but I can't help thinking about how much rain we've had and the seat of my pants."  
Nick finds himself smiling,  
"Expensive pants too I'm sure. I have an old jacket in the car, you can sit on that."

That's how Nick finds himself sitting on the grass, Renard next to him with his sleeves rolled up and top shirt button undone, long legs stretched out in front of him. He looks as far removed from the zauberbiest, the prince or the politician as Nick has seen him in a long, long time. There are too many people around for the talk to turn to Wesen, to what happened with Black Claw, anything of that life so instead they talk about Portland and the sunshine and the human world. When silence falls Nick looks across - Renard has his eyes shut, his head tilted back to catch the sun. Nick knows Renard's face - both faces - well, but how often do you look, really look at someone? He finds himself studying the line of the dark, close-cropped hair above Renard's collar, the ruthlessly suppressed curls, his strong nose and surprisingly soft-looking lips. His skin suits sunlight.

Nick is reminded of the time before his life changed, before Grimms and blutbads and hexenbiests and when the only Royal he could have recognised was the Queen of England. Then Renard was just his boss, his Captain - and a good one. He was never a commanding officer who tried to be your best friend, always at a slight but definite distance, but he'd been fair and he'd done all he could to protect his men and women from bureaucracy, budget cuts and the occasional strange member of the public. Nick remembers discovering the Captain's dry sense of humor, how he'd enjoyed provoking a small smile, remembers quietly wanting the Captain to be proud of him, to give him a word of praise, a warm hand on his shoulder. It seems a very long time ago and yet, sitting here in the sunshine, only yesterday. For the first time Nick acknowledges he misses the Captain, misses Renard watchful in his office, wishes he was back there. But of course there's far too much water - and blood and fear and mistrust - gone under that particular bridge,

There is a wave of movement among the people around them, standing up, craning to see up the road. People are gathering up their impromptu picnics, heading back to vehicles. Renard's eyes open and he sits more upright,  
"Looks like we're moving."  
Later Nick will remind himself about all the reasons why there is distance between them, will push away the thoughts of this oddly peaceful hour, but right now he is strangely reluctant to move. Renard stands, picks up Nick's old jacket and brushes at it. Nick stands too and takes the jacket, warm from the sun and Renard's body heat. The two men stand, one step too close together.

Vehicles are starting up, not that far ahead. Nick glances up the road, they need to go. Renard looks at him and takes a breath.  
"It's been good to see you, Nick."  
He turns away and takes a few steps. Nick watches him for a second and then calls after him,  
"It's been good to see you too - Sean."


	2. Chapter 2

It is, of course, pure random chance that Nick is in the Spice Shop when Sean goes in. Well, chance that he's there by himself anyway. Sean doesn't know Nick's alone straightaway - Rosalee could be in the back room or downstairs - but the first thing he sees as he walks through the door is the back of Nick's head, the rest of him hidden below the counter. Should he just walk back out? Nick would never know he'd been here. Sean pauses, hand still on the door. A week ago he would have left without hesitation and it's the hour spent sitting on the grass at the side of the road that keeps him where he is until Nick stands up and turns around. Sean steps forward and pushes back the hood of his coat - he'd been glad the return of the rain allowed him to justify the heavy jacket. Nick looks at him,  
"Ouch, what happened to you?"

Sean reaches a hand up toward his face, forces it down. His right cheek is bruised and cut, looks a mess and although the visible marks are nothing serious it hurts like hell.  
"A slight issue with a door. Is Rosalee here?"  
"She is not - she's gone to an appointment with Monroe. I have been left in charge with very strict instructions on what I can't touch, say or do. Which is more or less everything actually - although I think I can sell tea if that's what you're after and if I can remember how to use the cash register."  
Despite the light words Sean thinks Nick isn't looking his best - stubble long enough to be on the edge of scruffy rather than designer, slightly red-eyed as though he's short on sleep.  
"You're in charge?"  
"I am. So what can I do for you?"  
Sean doesn't really know what to do now. The Spice Shop hardly holds happy memories for him and it's taken all morning to reach the decision to come here.  
"I don't know that you can. I have some wood splinters in my face, I was hoping Rosalee could get them out."  
Nick comes round the counter, peers up at him.  
"I can't see anything - cuts, yes, but they look clean."  
Trust Nick to need it spelling out,  
"Nick, the splinters aren't in this face." He sighs, "Could you get Rosalee to call me when she's back and if she's willing to help."  
Sean has already moved away when Nick says,  
"I could take a look."

Sean turns back. He's not sure about that as an idea. Can Nick be serious about looking, looking closely at his Zauberbiest face? Touching it? And does Sean want him to?  
"Hey, you were the one who made us all do first responder training. I may not be good with tea and spice but I can use a pair of tweezers."  
There are many reasons why Sean is uncertain about this but lack of confidence in Nick's medical ability isn't one of them. Only his face hurts and he wants whatever is in there out and Nick has that stubborn expression Sean knows so well.  
"Very well then."

Nick takes the task seriously, flicking the sign on the door to closed, setting out antiseptic, cloths and a bowl next to the couch in the back room. Sean perches on the edge somewhat hesitantly - his memories of this couch aren't good either. There is a pause.  
"Uh, Sean, you need to woge."

He doesn't woge that much and it's usually with adrenaline pounding through him. With Nick watching - and with his doubts about this whole thing - there are a few seconds where he just can't find it, has to dig the Zauberbiest up with a real effort of will. He finally feels his face ripple, a shaft of pain accompanying the rearrangement of skin and muscle, sharp enough to to make his knuckles whiten on the edge of the couch. Nick leans down, peers at his face - it's the side that changes around his eye and he forces himself to focus ahead so as not to see any expression on Nick's face. Nick's voice, though, sounds remarkably matter-of-fact,  
"That has to hurt, there's a piece that's more a two by four than a splinter."  
Sean is surprisingly reassured - both that Nick hasn't leapt back in disgust and that there is something big enough to make him feel less of a wuss for how painful it is. Sean relaxes very slightly and Nick sets to work.

"What happened with the door?"  
"A Löwen came through it. I wasn't too happy."  
"And is the Löwen going to appear in my case load?"  
"No, he walked out on his own two feet. I wanted to send a message." Sean pauses slightly, "Not the dead body kind of message."  
Nick laughs, puts his left hand on Sean's head to tilt it, fingers in his hair, moves to another splinter.  
"So, how is it going as Prince of Portland?"  
"That's not exactly my job title."  
"Close enough. And how is it?"  
Sean can only put it down to the fact that Nick is taking pieces of door from his face that the word 'lonely' nearly escapes him. Instead he says,  
"It's strangely difficult to get anything done. Even getting a chair big enough for me in my office seemed to have to go through about five committees."

Nick probes particularly deeply and despite his best efforts Sean feels his face ripple. Nick makes a slight sound which Sean instantly interprets as disgust.

"I'm sorry, this must be uncomfortable for you, I know this face is ... not pleasant."  
"Hey, of course I'm uncomfortable - I'm picking pieces of wood out of your face and hurting you. And you know, I've been a Grimm for what? Five years now. And a cop a long time before that. Trust me, your face does not feature in my top hundred unpleasant things I've seen. That blowfish Wesen? Much worse. And that weird male and female one? Then there was that time we fished a body out of the Willamette and it exploded over Hank. Now that was unpleasant. Your face is probably not in my top thousand actually." There is is a slight pause, "Sorry, this is going to sting."  
Sean feels the smart of antiseptic,  
'I think we're done."  
Sean shakes his head, settles his face back to humanity. Nick's left hand is still curled around his head, he's very near. Sean turns to look at him and there is an endless, elongated second where their mouths are so close that it would only take the slightest move by either man for their lips to meet.  
The bell on the entrance door rings and Monroe's voice calls,  
"Hey, shop-boy, how come we're closed?"

Monroe and Rosalee have an air of suppressed excitement that makes Sean speculate what kind of appointment they've been too. They're not telling him though, whatever it is. Nick tidies up, Sean makes awkward conversation for a while and then shrugs his jacket back on and heads back out into the rain. His face is stinging and sore. He feels oddly wonderful.


	3. Chapter 3

It is, of course, pure random chance that Nick is in the grocery store at the same time as Sean. If he'd thought about it he'd have realised it's on Sean's route home but he's never been in before and it's chance they're here at the same time. Sean's right the other end of the aisle when Nick spots him and Nick finds himself heading straight there, bypassing the groceries he meant to get. He's thought a lot about Sean in the last few days. Actually he's always thought a lot about him - the occasional fantasy, quite a few arguments, rehearsals of angry words, memories of things done, rewriting of things regretted - but this last few days he's mostly thought about the fact that if Monroe and Rosalee hadn't come back when they did he's fairly certain they would have kissed each other.

Sean turns when Nick is still about ten feet away, his Nick-proximity sense apparently as well developed as Nick's Sean-spotting powers. Nick walks up to him,  
"How are you doing? No more trouble with doors?"  
Sean's human face is healed, he lifts his hand to his face as he answers,  
"All is well - thank you Doctor Burkhardt, you did a fine job. And no, no more trouble with doors."  
They smile at each other. Sean asks,  
"So what brings you to this neighbourhood? You have a case nearby?"  
"No, I've, well I've moved not far from here. I moved yesterday, rented apartment."  
Nick sees Sean's eyes drop to the groceries in Nick's basket, understands the question Sean is looking to answer. His purchases are not the purchases of a family man, any more than Sean's are - single men, buying for a one person meal at the end of a long day. Sean's groceries are more high-end than Nick's though.  
"Yeah, it's just me moving in. I've been staying with Monroe and Rosalee the last few weeks - that's why I was at the Spice Shop the other day, least I could do was say I'd help out when they were stuck. I could have stayed longer but they're kinda going to need their guest room, you know patter of little paws and all, and I thought I might as well go sooner rather than later..."  
Nick realises he's babbling. Sean is looking thoughtful, presumably sorting through Nick's words,  
"Rosalee's pregnant? That will be interesting. I had wondered."  
They stand together, reluctant to step away, not sure where to go next with this. Nick would like to say 'let's go to dinner', forget the solo meal in the bare apartment, but he doesn't know quite how to say it, how well it would be received. Instead he mumbles,  
"Well, I guess I'd er, better get on."  
They both move, are a few feet apart but not separate, still joined by their awareness of each other, when Sean stops, says  
"I think I owe you a thank you. Would you like to get dinner?

It is all amazingly easy. There is an Italian restaurant on the corner, not so fancy that Nick feels awkward or out of place in his jeans, not so down-market that Sean stands out in his expensive suit. It's busy - which means the conversation has to stay away from dangerous topics - but not so full they can't get a table. The table is small but not so far in the corner this feels somehow shady, not so out in the open they feel on display. And Nick discovers that sharing a small table with a very tall man means you can - purely by chance - keep making contact with his very long legs.

They talk first about a recent case of Nick's, not Wesen for once, with no names and discreetly of course because they might be overheard. It's a murder linked to a complicated fraud case and with lots of theories but not much evidence. Sean listens to what they've come up with so far, takes the case apart, studies the separate components and then puts them back together with a firm hand and in a much sturdier formation. Nick makes mental notes to impress Hank with in the morning. Sean was always a clever, insightful cop, he thinks, even if he didn't maybe quite meet the dictionary definition of a good one. Nick is also impressed that Sean can eat spaghetti in a pale lilac button-down shirt without apparent fear of getting it all over himself. Nick smiles inwardly, must be having Royal blood. The conversation moves to other things and Nick remembers his thought about how he used to like getting Sean to smile, sets out to do just that. When he succeeds he goes for a laugh, is surprisingly pleased with himself when he manages it.

As they finish their meals a slight tension creeps back in. Not a bad tension, more a 'what happens next?' tension. In a corner of his mind Nick starts to wonder what he says if Sean suggests they do this again or even (in a more hidden corner yet) asks what Nick's new apartment is like. It's at this point his phone rings.

Nick looks at his phone. There are some callers he just can't ignore and this is one of them. He makes 'sorry I have to get this' signs at Sean and answers,  
"Monroe."  
Monroe has basically rung up to check Nick's okay - which is kind - but he realises straightaway that Nick somehow hasn't made it to his apartment and is instead in a restaurant. Of course the next question is who he's with. Nick replies that it's not important, nobody Monroe knows, finishes the call but as soon as he looks back at Sean he knows he's blown it. The relaxed man who laughed out loud with Nick three minutes ago, whose leg has rested against his own, whose fingers had, by chance, brushed his as they'd both reached for something, that man is gone and in his place is a man so distant he might as well have built a wall across the table. And the worst of it is Nick understands completely.

The other day at the Spice Shop Monroe had definitely been on the hostile side of unwelcoming - his first words on coming into the back room had been 'what the hell is he doing here?'. Nick hadn't said who he was with just now because Monroe would not have approved, would in fact think Sean is the last person in the world Nick should be having dinner with. And Nick's other friends too - even though in the end Sean came through for them Nick's not sure they'd understand why he's here. His words - his denial - have just reminded Sean about everything that has happened between them, everything they've done and not done, everything deliberately wrong and stupidly thoughtless. And it's reminded Nick.

Somehow they get the bill paid, get out of the restaurant, get back to their cars. Nick sits a while before driving off. He's not sure quite what he was hoping for, this thing with Sean, if it ever had any chance. And he's not sure what he does next. Nick has never really been a man to walk alone, likes people around him, people to talk to. But who does he talk to about Sean? Not the maybe-possible kiss, not the touches, not that but just - what next. He considers Rosalee, but in the end he knows who to talk to. He'll talk to Hank


	4. Chapter 4

It is, of course, pure random chance that it's Sean who will have to present the Portland Police Bureau awards, chance that the Chief of Police eats bad seafood and can't get out of his bathroom - never mind his house - when he should be handing them out. When the organisers ask Sean to present the awards there is no reason to refuse, at least not until he's sent the Chief's notes two hours before the event and there, number seventeen on a list of twenty, is the name of Detective Nicholas Burkhardt. Sean has seen Nick over the last forty eight hours, not in person but on the local news. His murder/fraud case has broken and Sean has seen footage of him and Hank making an arrest, heard the press conference by Nick's captain. Maybe he won't be able to even make the awards ceremony. Sean spends twenty unusually indecisive minutes wondering whether to say he's indisposed himself but dignity prevents him laying claim to the same problem as the Chief. And he wants to see Nick, even if it's just thirty seconds on a platform with him, even if he ruined everything with his reaction to Nick's conversation with Monroe.

The twenty people getting awards include patrol officers and two civilians as well as detectives. Sean reads the Chief's notes: he knows a few of the recipients, adds a few comments of his own. He looks at the paragraph on Detective Burkhardt, words about bravery and protecting the public and thinks back to the case in question, Wesen of course, a family of Hasechen, prey for something bigger and badder. Not that it made what Nick did any less brave, maybe more so, but Sean would have given Hank an award too, for facing down a Rotznasig Carcaju when he's not a Grimm. He pushes the notes into order, he can do this.

The first part of the evening consists of eating over-cooked chicken, drinking a glass of the kind of wine you only get at civic functions and making small talk. Sean's aware of Nick seated at a table across the room but by chance they are seated with their backs to each other, no danger of catching the other's eye. Before the dessert course is finished and people start moving around Sean makes the excuse of needing to check his notes and slips out.

Twenty people getting awards, Nick is seventeen. The first ten, twelve he does without thinking - complimentary words, the occasional witticism, handshake, photograph, on to the next. The thirteenth is a detective he knows only vaguely, the fourteenth a civilian. Still a while until Nick. Fifteen, sixteen.

It starts as planned, Detective Nicholas Burkhardt saving members of the public with no thought for his own safety, above and beyond the call of duty, true but bland. The words come as though Nick means no more to him than the previous sixteen.  
"I was Detective Burkhardt's commanding officer for many years and I can tell you that his actions on this day were not out of character -" Sean makes the mistake of looking across at Nick and he's looking back at him so intently that Sean stops. It's like his throat closes up for a second and then he suddenly gets an overwhelming urge to actually say all the things he never has, right here, in front of all these people: law enforcement officers, civic dignitaries and their families and friends. He's aware his silence has lasted long enough that the audience are starting to stir slightly, wondering what's happened, but he can't find the words to continue. He's still looking at Nick and Nick starts to smile, hesitantly at first. Sean feels the corners of his own mouth lift in response and now Nick really _smiles_ at him, a warm, open Nick smile. They are looking at each other and smiling at each other and... Sean's mind kicks back into gear,  
" - were not out of character. In fact I doubt there is any officer who has done more to protect the citizens of Portland,  all the citizens of Portland, even those who might doubt that a man such as Nick Burkhardt could be on their side. Our city has been through troubled times recently, throughout which Detective Burkhardt always fought for what he knew was right. And it was not only his own actions that determined the outcome, it was the influence he had on others, helping them, helping me to make the right choices when it mattered most. Detective Burkhardt is receiving this award tonight because he saved a family, four children and their mother. He was indeed brave, acted above and beyond the call of duty. But I know if he had not shown friendship to that family when they did not expect it they would not have trusted him enough to let him save them. I am no longer Nick's commanding officer but it is my ... hope... that in future we could consider each other friends. The recipient of the Police Board Medal tonight, Detective Nick Burkhardt."

Well that wasn't the speech he'd intended to make.

Nick comes up on the platform, gets his award, shakes Sean's hand. As he does so he leans forward,  
"Sean, please don't even think about regretting what you've just said and running off at the end. I really want to to talk to you."

It's fair to say the eighteenth, nineteenth and twentieth awards pass in a bit of a blur. The twentieth is a particularly prestigious one, makes the papers, the local news. When he sees the clips Sean is truly astounded to discover he looked and sounded normal, feels anything but at the time. And yet his words about Nick - even though most in the room didn't understand their true meaning - seem to resonate, his own words, the words of the chairman of industry, the community leader, the retiring patrol officer, recipient of the final award, all strike the note of friendship.

When the last official photograph has been taken, last official hand shaken Sean comes off the platform to find Nick leaning against a table, in that familiar casual pose. He stands up as Sean approaches,  
"Come round here..."

'Round here' is a small side room, a meeting room of some sort with a table and chairs. Sean doesn't really get chance to appreciate the detail of his surroundings because as soon as the door has shut behind them Nick slides one hand around Sean's waist, the other around his neck and pulls him into a kiss that goes on for some time. Nick's lips are insistent, his hands are holding Sean firmly, there is absolutely nothing Sean can do but kiss back, reach his own hands around Nick. He can't remember a single moment in his life quite like this one.

When they finally stop kissing, both a little breathless, Sean opens his mouth to speak and Nick reaches his palm up to Sean's cheek, thumb resting across his lips.  
"I talked to Hank, not about this -”, Nick strokes his thumb across Sean's lower lip, "- and that's not because it's you, that's because it's ...new. But I told him we'd bumped into each other, that it was nice, good until I screwed it up. And that I wanted to see you again and for things to be right between us, for us, but I didn't know if we could, with everything that's happened. And Hank told me he went to couples therapy with his wife once and the counselor, she said that there's a certain point where you have to draw a line. No more apologies, no more justification, no more I did this so he did that, no more, I don't know, trying to add up who did most to who - or for who. Hank said maybe if we could do that, draw that line, then we could start from here, where we are now, and if we can make things between us strong enough it won't matter what happened before. What you said tonight was ... amazing, and it meant a lot to me but I think Hank's idea, starting fresh, sounds...good."  
Sean thinks so too, although he does spot one flaw in the plan,  
"Hasn't Hank been divorced three times?"  
Nick smiles,  
"He said just because it didn't work for him didn't mean it wasn't good advice. And he says, he says he'd like things to be right with you too. Though I hope maybe not quite in the same way I do."  
Rather hesitantly Sean leans down, kisses Nick, gently at first. He pushes one hand into Nick's hair, the other under his suit jacket, wanting to feel the warmth of Nick's skin. They've moved so close he feels the vibration when Nick's phone rings. Against his mouth Nick swears softly and pulls away enough to get his hand in his pocket. He looks at the phone,  
"Wu."

There has been a further development in the murder/fraud case - one of their suspects has walked in to the precinct and says he wants to give evidence in exchange for a deal. Nick will have to go.  
"Sean, have dinner with me tomorrow?"  
"I would like that very much. I have to be at City Hall until 7."  
"Well then, I'll meet you outside City Hall at ten after."  
They smile at each other one more time, finally manage to step away. Nick leaves and Sean pulls out a chair, sits for a moment, thinking about what's happened. One thing's for sure, he doesn't think he'll ever feel the same about awards ceremonies.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Nick is taking absolutely no chances for his date with Sean, none at all. Tonight nothing is going wrong. He spends time deciding on the restaurant, finally settling on a place he's been a couple times with Monroe and Rosalee, a place where he is confident the food will be good and the atmosphere right. He calls and books a table, is very specific about exactly which table he wants. He also checks that Monroe and Rosalee aren't planning a romantic meal for two at the same time - he's not going to keep this secret from them but on the whole he'd rather they weren't at the next table, just for tonight. Nick also spends time thinking about what to wear. In the end he takes a complete change of clothes - right down to underwear - plus an extra shirt in to the precinct, just in case some workplace incident leaves him covered with coffee, Wu's doughnuts, blood or worse (he's had both the cop and the Grimm version of worse in his time and neither would be a good start for a date). The shirts are ones he's been told make his eyes look nice, the pants the ones he thinks fit the best. He also makes it absolutely clear to Wu, to Hank and anyone else who might call him that he will not be answering his phone after seven pm, no matter what the crime, the Wesen or if the gates of hell themselves open in Portland. He leaves plenty of time for parking and is standing outside City Hall at two minutes past seven.

The evening is perfect. Sean appears down the steps and he's wearing a gray suit and a white shirt with a dark red tie and he looks so hot that Nick can barely keep his hands off him. The restaurant is just right, the food delicious, Sean's legs are warm against Nick's underneath the table and every chance they get their fingers touch. They talk and they laugh and they talk some more. Nick knows stuff about Sean, of course he does, knows about Wesen and Royals and the broad outlines of his life but until tonight he didn't know that Sean hates sweet things on savory dishes, likes soccer but has never quite got football and that when he was a patrolman he was once called out to a burglary, only to find the burglar was a skunk and then no one could come near him for a week. They taste each other's entrees, skip dessert, have coffee. At the end of the evening they walk back to where they've both parked and, although they're not quite ready to hold hands in public yet, they walk so close together that their arms touch.

It is, of course, pure random chance that four hours and twenty three minutes earlier Nick drove over a nail and that when they reach it, the front tire on his truck is completely flat.

Nick is wearing his best shirt and his favorite pants, it's dark and he really doesn't want to change a tire. Sean looks at him,  
"I can drive you home, call and get you in the morning to sort this out."  
Except when they get to Nick's apartment Nick says 'come in' and then it turns out neither of them want Sean to go.

Later, much later, Nick has learned a lot more new things about Sean. He knows he loves to touch and be touched, that his mouth is skilled at more than making speeches and that if you take him to the very, very edge and hold him there for long enough he forgets entirely how to speak English and can only gasp the occasional word in French, words Nick must discover the meaning of. Nick is lying warm and comfortable and sated and he has Sean in his arms. It feels very good.  
"Sean, does it seem to you like all this stuff lately, like a lot of its happened by chance? You know, the traffic hold-up, me being in the Spice Shop, you presenting those awards, even my flat tire."  
Sean huffs against his neck, kisses his collarbone, then decides to do the job more thoroughly and shifts enough that he can kiss Nick's mouth. After an interval he says,  
"You know there's a quote - don't ask me who said it or if I've got it right - but the gist of it is a wise man sees cause and effect where another man sees chance."  
"How do you mean?"  
"Well, it was chance we got stuck in a traffic hold up but you didn't have to come talk to me, we didn't have to sit together."  
"And ... I deliberately caught you up, knew you were there from a mile back."  
"Exactly. And at the Spice Shop? You didn't need to offer to help."  
"And you didn't need to take me up on it."  
Nick kisses Sean again, strokes and kisses his face, left cheek by his mouth, right cheek by his eye. He's going to tell Sean that he doesn't find his woge unpleasant at all, not tonight maybe, but very soon. And he's going to keep on telling him until he believes it. Between kisses he says,  
"At the awards evening you didn't need to say the things you did."  
Sean laughs,  
"And you didn't need to take me into a room and kiss me until I didn't know which way was up. And just because you had a flat tire it didn't mean you had to invite me in tonight."  
"So maybe not random chance after all?"  
"More like...second chance. Both of us choosing to do things differently this time round."

Nick moves round a little further, looks at Sean,  
"Is this going to cause you problems at work?"  
"Who knows? But if it does, well, I can always do something else. What about you? Will Monroe be okay with this?"  
"You know, I think Rosalee will be - and at the moment Monroe will do anything for Rosalee. It might take time but it will be fine."

It's choice not chance that Sean and Nick are together, okay, maybe a little bit of chance at first, a little bit of chance that Sean stays that first night. But they choose to spend the next night together, in Sean's bed this time. And after a very short time it's not Sean's bed, it's their bed and after a little time more it's not Sean's house, it's their house. They learn more as time goes on - Nick learns that Sean can never have too much reassurance that he is loved and wanted and accepted. Sean learns that Nick can spend time with other people, have other friends without loving him one fraction less. They both learn that so much of what went wrong between them before was because they hadn't realised those things. Some people - like Hank - find their choice easy to accept, others - like Monroe - find it more difficult. What changes Monroe's mind in the end is that, by pure random chance, it's Sean who has to deliver Rosalee's baby. But that's another story...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was going to be a lot more angst in the final chapter but what can I say, I wrote it on holiday and felt they just needed a good time too...
> 
> There is a sequel to this which is called 'Second Chance' if you'd like to find out what happens next.


End file.
